The Crown Prince's estate was a fortress carved from lacquered pride and silent control. Its red walls stood tall beneath the moonlight, crowned with curling black tiles and guarded by stone lions who had seen too much and blinked too little. Inside, the courtyard lanterns burned with a low, unwavering glow, casting long shadows along gravel paths and koi ponds, as if even the light had learned not to speak too loudly here.
Zhao Xinying said nothing as she was escorted down the walkway, her soft-soled shoes making no sound against the polished stone. She didn't look around, didn't ask questions. Even though she had never been in a cage, never seen a cage like this… but that didn't mean she didn't recognize one when she was in it.
And this one smelled like sandalwood, incense, and fear.
